[Here, deep in Bucky's head, sam doesn't need to say those things: they echo around the cavernous space as clear as bells. Just as he's turned away, Bucky turns back to face his guest. When he makes to respond, however, more roots from overhead descend sharply into the space, twisting down toward them. Each branch is dusted with snow that shakes free and speckles the brilliant glow of the glass.
There's trees up there, Bucky thinks, trying to remember why he's not more surprised by the revelation. Sam's embrace is warm, wings warmer, and inviting in comparison to the snow gathering at a faster rate.
No this isn't right. Snow shouldn't be in here. It should be piled on the surface, not underneath because... because...
Because underneath is where they kept him, he remembers more clearly, under the tundra and permafrost. He said he'd never go back.
On the surface, Bucky's eyebrows furrow and his breath quickens; he's waking up.]
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There's trees up there, Bucky thinks, trying to remember why he's not more surprised by the revelation. Sam's embrace is warm, wings warmer, and inviting in comparison to the snow gathering at a faster rate.
No this isn't right. Snow shouldn't be in here. It should be piled on the surface, not underneath because... because...
Because underneath is where they kept him, he remembers more clearly, under the tundra and permafrost. He said he'd never go back.
On the surface, Bucky's eyebrows furrow and his breath quickens; he's waking up.]